Kingdoms at War (Hellscream&BeyondPoetry)

[Atherium]

Gwethien. A kingdom as beautiful as its name. Blooming, peaceful, for centuries, under the leadership of wise and strong kings. For so long have the people of Gwethien lived in peace they forgot how it is when a threat arises against them. But peace was soon to be disrupted, for king Reimund of Gaedith was hell bent on exterminating it. In a late night, with no further decree or announcement, he sent his vaste troops to march against Gwethien. His reasons unknown, but his hatred ever burning. The drums of war were thundering, as now, Gwethien had to gather its own army to defend from the incoming threat.


However, the king of Gwethien, Althalos the Third, ordered right away that his daughter be taken away, to prevent her from harm. Discussions have been had about wherever was she going to be taken to, and little did the king know that somebody was constantly listening, and informing Reimund. The first outburst of the war took place right at the gates of Gwethien, just as the secret caravan transporting princess Alice was leaving, the sound of swords clashing and of catapults triggering forever remaining imprinted on her memory.


King Reimund, anyhow, had other plans for the princess that was now being escorted away through the forests that surrounded the big capital of Gwethien.


==============================================================================


The throne room in which King Reimund spent his days was magnificent, to say the least. With enough space to shelter at least half of the whole population of the capital of Gaedith, it stood out by the numerous decorations made out of pure gold, a resource that Reimund did not shy away from snatching from the dwarves, as he drove them away from their lands. For Gaedith has not always been a kingdom of humans. With the increased danger that the king drew upon himself, it was now much justified the fact that the number of guards that kept an eye on him was double from the usual.


The throne at the very middle of the huge room was now occupied by the king himself. He sat upon it, and gazed to the entrance, awaiting in silence for the arrival of the one he has called for. A special person, known for his prowess and for his ability in handling such matters as kidnapping, and not only. An expert into the art of thievery. The silence of the room was disturbed by the sound of his steps, as he made his way in through the rather huge doors. Courtesy was, however, none of his business, and as a consequence, he did not bother to kneel as he reached the first step of the stairs that led up to the throne.


His armor was mostly made out of leather, and he wore, strapped to himself, different bands with pockets for whoever knew what small things he needed. In terms of equipment and training, the man seemed to be trained in all sorts of combat, as he wore an arrow and a quiver on his back, daggers at his waist and a sword, on one of his hips. He was not extremely tall, rather average, nor was his build a bulky one. He needed to be light on his feet if he snuck through insides. From his face, only two green eyes were visible as he darted his gaze towards the king, awaiting to be briefed into the matter of his mission.


"I see you have finally arrived, and in time. Good. Princess Alice of Gwethien is the one i want you to bring to me. She is being transported from Gwenieth, and the caravan's route will pass through the Diweh Bog by tomorrow morning. Take her away from the caravan and bring her to me. Of course, the reward will be significant. You may leave now."


The mysterious persona did not waste a second before turning around and leaving just as silent as he arrived. He knew where to go. And when. And that is all that mattered.

 

[Poe]

All at once, Alice’s world had crumbled in on itself. Born the only daughter of King Althalos and Queen Raena, her entire existence had been, up until that point, blessed and privileged. Born as beautiful as the morning sun, she was often compared to a sunrise — the golden color of her hair, the morning blue of her eyes, pink and rosy cheeks against her peach-like complexion — each and every aspect awed by those around her. There was always a kindness to her eyes, a softness to her touch, that did not live within her father and the people grew to love it greatly. She would spend mornings traversing the marketplace, speaking with the villagers and laughing with merchants, only to spend her nights twirling about the ballroom in the arms of whatever man fancied her company for a dance. It was a charmed life, wrapped up in beautiful gowns and pretty words.


But one attack from Gaedith had crippled all that she held dear.


When her father, in a frenzy, had promised her that this was in order to protect the kingdom, she had hardly agreed. She was far more than the lovely exterior the world had come to know and she was not so daft to believe that sending her away would do the kingdom any good. It was only when he took her hands, his voice breaking as he swore that he could not lose her like he had her mother, did she reconsider. Alice was not one to run. There was a fire that burned to brightly in her heart to ever bow to any man, but it broke her heart to see her father so broken. Who was she kidding, after all? She could not wield a blade or stand among the knights. She could not maneuver catapults or draw up military plans, either. All Alice could do was put her faith in her father’s words and follow the guard hastily towards an awaiting carriage.


She didn’t even get to say goodbye.


Looking down at herself, she hardly recognized her own body in the clothing she wore. The dress more peasant than princess was far more moveable, more comfortable, but it felt alien against her skin. Her hair, which was usually pinned up in intricate golden curls, hung down and cascaded over her shoulders — masked only slightly by the cloak she wore to obscure her face. She did not know where they were headed or when they would get there, but she had been left to her own devices to mull it over as the guards kept steady watch on the outside. Not once did they speak to her, reassure her, but she did not know what to expect. When the world was ending around them, who had time to check on one small and meager woman? They probably thought her a coward and she could not blame them for that. After all, she thought herself a coward for allowing herself to run anyway. True, her father had never told her why Gaedith had attacked or why he believed Reimund would be after her, but how bad could it be? Her place was in Gwethien, among her people, not locked in a carriage in the middle of nowhere.


By the morning, Alice was exhausted. The night had not been kind to her, leaving her with her thoughts had plagued her more than pleased her. They were to be passing through Diweh Bog, or so she had heard one of the guards mutter to the other a few hours before. Though she had never been there, it did not sound pleasant and she kept to herself. Perhaps the less she said or fought, the faster they would get to their destination. The faster this would all be over with. The faster she would be home.


“Princess,” one of the guards walking alongside the carriage pulled back the small curtain covering the window. “We are coming upon Diweh Bog. We will stop for a few moments to allow you to rest awhile.”


“Thank you,” she said, a smile forced onto her features as the man beamed and nodded. Maybe the people did love her, maybe that was why they had agreed to help smuggle her out of the castle, but she could not bring herself to feel the same love for herself. If anything happened to these men, to her people in her absence, she would never forgive herself.

 

[Atherium]

The caravan advanced hardly through the muddy soil, and even the soldiers that accompanied it were wondering how come that the wheels of the carriage in which the princess was didn't bury themselves in the mud. What nobody knew is that shadows were enough and they were hiding away a presence, a mind that constantly worked on dismantling the whole caravan and taking its precious content. Eyes watched and counted as the mysterious persona sneaked along, taking as cover every tree and rock in sight. 20 soldiers, including the captain that was leading the whole operation. A single man had to disable the whole group and get away alive. Of course, for an amateur, this would have been an impossible mission, but for him... for him it was the daily drill.


The sounds of the few animals roaming the swamp were the best cover for the sounds of his movements as he all but leaped from here to there, trying to get a good vantage point. The plan was already hatched and it was now a matter of time until he put it into move. Kill the captain, then the horses, and then the rest. He thought within his head as he finally managed to take a good distance ahead. Hidden perfectly behind a small, bent tree, he now gazed towards his primary target. A tall man, well in his 50s. His body was clad in the silver armor, emblazoned with the symbol of Gwethien, and wielding a massive hammer, almost way too big for his stature. But everyone knew of his proficiency in battle. A fine man, he was, and the king has entrusted his daughter's life in his hands.


The caravan was still advancing, slowly but surely, when a couple of arrows darted through the air with a well-known sound. Nobody noticed what has just happened before they heard the captain's gasp. His knees weakened and his body succumbed to death. The armor clad man fell flat, face down into the mud, under the collective shock of the other soldiers. The horses that were pulling the carriage became anxious and started neighing desperate, rising to their back legs and falling to all four time and time again. One of the soldiers immediately announced the danger, ordering the others to immediately fall close to the carriage and protect the princess. The same soldier that earlier announced her that they were coming upon the Bog now rose the small curtain again, and tried to maintain his calm as he broke the news down to her.


"Princess, we are under attack. Don't worry, we'll keep you..." His words were cut short by a heavy arrow that stuck directly into his back. Penetrating the armor, the arrow stuck deep into his flesh, causing him to gasp. He cast one last gaze into the girl's eyes before instinctively reaching to his own back to pull out the said arrow. His body, weakened, fell down into the mud just like the captain's, all the while the others were desperately looking around, trying to figure where this attack was coming from. The mysterious man was all but dancing along the trees, running from one point to the other and with short aims, shooting down another, and another man, along with the horses. He knew too well how to outsmart the whole group, and make them believe they were being surrounded.


"Take the princess away and run with her!" Was the order of one of the soldiers towards another out of the four that were left alive. The mud was now mixed with blood, and the whole place was a macabre scenery. The hidden eyes were watching now from the trees, amused by how desperate these men were now to stay alive. Fools are going to bring her right to me, he thought as he watched one of the soldiers run to the carriage and reach into it for the princess. "I'm sorry, Princess, but i must keep you alive." He spoke to her as he took her away, making his way through the muddy terrain, jumping puddles and trying as good to dissapear from the main road. The unnamed assasin grinned to himself and jumped from the tree, darting into the direction of the soldier that took the princess away. The remaining two soldiers were left in the middle of the road, alone and scared of death.

 

[Poe]

The first arrow might as well have pierced her own heart. The moment Alice heard the sickening thud of arrowhead buried in flesh, she felt bile rise up in her throat. Perhaps her father had been right, the threat on her life was very real but she still couldn't bring herself to justify the lives being lost around her. Her heart was thumping painfully in her chest as the yelling got louder, the whoosh of arrows buzzing around the caravan and not a single one missed its target. Immediately, she pulled her cloak closer to her body and made no attempt to move. If she tried to leave now, she would not only be abandoning these men but she would become an open target. Tears prickled in her eyes at the thought of the men dying around her, not willing to stick her head out and view the carnage.


One of the soldiers rose the small curtain, his voice eerily calm as he told her what was going on but his words were interrupted by an arrow piercing his armor, a gasp in his lungs before the blood began to bubble up. He yanked the arrow out, his body sliding down against the carriage slowly until she heard him hit the mud beneath them. The deafening sound of horses crying out before hitting the mud broke her heart, unsure of what to do she felt the anxiety bubble up in the pit of her stomach. Something in her heart told her that she would survive this, despite the horror around her, and while it should have made her feel relieved she only felt an even deeper sadness. How quickly her world has been destroyed.


Without hesitation, the door flung open and a hand reached in to pull her out. One of the soldiers was attempting to get her to safety, his body shielding hers as he kept hold of her hand, taking her roughly away from the scene. The image was worse than anything she could have imagined and the nausea did not subside. Blood and mud were intermixed, caked on the soldiers who now lie dead alongside the slaughtered horses. She stumbled as he pulled her roughly, her free hand hiking up her skirt to try an alleviate some of the clumsiness but to no avail. The man was frantic, scared, and she felt it in her heart. “Hold on, Princess,” he said to her, his voice passionate. “I’m going to get you to safety, I promise. No harm will come to you. We just have to get out of the bog and onto the high ground, then I can —“


The arrow hit him before he could finish, his body falling into the grassy knoll as they had made it to the edge of the Bog. His grip never loosened on her hand, pulling her down with him as he collapsed to his knees. Blood bubbled up from his throat, the arrow set deeply into his back. A sharp gasp erupted from his body. “Run, princess. Run.” he managed to choke out.


“No, I am not leaving you,” Alice spoke finally, her voice trembling as her hands worked quickly on his wound. She was not much of a fighter, but she had been trained for most of her life as a healer underneath the castle physician. Yanking out the arrow, she tore a part of his tunic, balled it up and put pressure on the wound. A scream left his lips and she shushed him gently, “You’ll be okay, We’re going to get you home.”


“T-thank you, p-princess,” the man muttered, the blood too much for Alice to stop. It stained her hands as she tried to keep him conscious but the arrow had pierced a lung. His hand touched hers, squeezed it gently before it fell limp and his eyes froze, eternally open in death, and a sob bubbled up in her chest. They were all dead. Alice heard footsteps behind her, presumably whatever man had done this finally approaching her. Her palms stained with blood, she pressed the back of her hand against her head to help calm her anxiety but to no avail.


“If you’re here to kill me, do it,” she managed, her voice more even than it felt.

 

[Atherium]

The poor soldier was stumbling through the mud, in despair, trying to rush the princess and get her to safety, anywhere that would be. The precision that was used by the assasin to arrow him through was, indeed, fascinating. One could see from afar that this man had years of training on his back and did not settle from anything less than a perfect operation. And now, the princess was alone, with a corpse she desperately tried to revive at her side. Helpless. The mysterious attacker approached, in a calm demeanor, placing the bow back into its holder, as he stepped closer. He gazed down upon the princess with a strange mix of despise and at the same time, amusement, at how wrong she could be. It seemed she did not understand that if he wished to kill her, he would've done it when she was still in the carriage. A grin formed under the cover that kept most of his features away from sight.


Without uttering a single word, the man proceeded to take out a piece of rope from one of the pockets strapped to his attire, then, lowering himself to the girl's level, he painfully yanked her arms by the wrists, locking them behind her and applying the rope around, making several rolls before pulling it into a tight knot. He listened closely to his surroundings, knowing he has left two men still living. They could have followed the third now, couldn't they? But it seemed the plac was empty for good. It wouldn't be too long, however, until the king of Gwethien would be notified by his daughter's kidnapping. That, if he still lived, yet. Now that the princess was bound, it was time to move to the part two of the plan. Searching another one of his seemingly magical pockets, he pulled out a small glass vial, thin as the index finger of an average person, containing a blue-ish liquid.


This man was also well versed into the art of creating poisons and several branches of concoctions to suit his needs. The vial contained a dose of his special sleeping drink, and its content was enough to put to sleep any person, no matter how big they were. Uncapping the small vessel, he proceeded to grabbing the girl's jaw and roughly tugging her head back, thus forcing her lips to part open. He seemed merciless in his ways and uncaring of the reactions he was triggering. He put up with the resistance to the best of his abilities and eventually, managed to pour the liquid into her mouth, thus forcing her to swallow it. Her frail body resisted for mere seconds before her eyelids fell shut, and she remained limp into his arms. Good. The less she resisted, the easier it was for him.


Standing up, he yanked her body up and easily bent it over his shoulder, her upper torso now hanging along his back, nudged uncomfortably by the bow and the quiver that he carried. With the same calm walk, he set out into a totally different direction compared to the one he came from. Reaching a certain spot, he let out a hushed whistle and awaited. The sound of hooves stepping through mud was the signal that the horse was answering its master's call and approaching. The horse was beautiful, jet black and its size was beyond usual measurements. Moreover, the animal had red eyes, red as if they were two pools of blood, bathed in hellish fire. Approaching his steed, the man placed the princess' body in the same position he had placed her earlier on his shoulder, then carefully tied her wrists with a rope, which he then connected to her ankles, wrapping it about them too, thus ensuring she would not fall off the horse.


With just as much care, he wrapped a piece of rag around her head and against her mouth, to prevent her from screaming whenever she would wake up. With the princess in his hands, he now mounted his outworldly steed and rode away, exitting the marsh through a secret pass and setting out into a vaste forest, getting lost in its shadows.

 

[Poe]

By all means, Alice believed that this masked man would kill her. However, when his hands came down to roughly yank her wrists back, binding them tightly and painfully — she was too surprised to fight back much. What fight was there left in her, after all? She had just seen guards, men who had protected her nearly her entire life, lie bloody and dead in the mud. The man before her, one of her father’s most entrusted guards with a wife and family of his own, still trickling blood out of his mouth. Alice winced at the painful jerk of her wrists, the man’s hand coming up to her jaw and tugged her head back in an attempt to pour a blueish liquid down her throat. She thrashed a bit, but it was no use.


He was far stronger than she was. Everyone seemed stronger than she was.


It took a few seconds for the effects to set in, her head lulling slowly as her eyes fluttered shut. The only thing she managed to register was the roughness of her captor, his bruising hold on her delicate skin and the painful jerks of her body. The last thing she felt was her body falling limp into his arms and she was surprised, in fact, that he even caught her at all.


The throne room was lit dimly, the fires burning brightly but the night uncharacteristically dark for this early in the evening. Alice’s father stood a few paces away, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked out onto the kingdom. A war was on the horizon and he had called Alice there for one reason and one reason only. It was no longer safe for her there, the place she had called home was now a battlefield. “But father, I cannot leave,” she cried out to him. “The people, I cannot leave them to fight alone.”


“And what can you do, Alice?” he turned, the aging on his face more obvious in the dim lighting and she had forgotten how much he’d aged since her mother’s death. “You cannot fight alongside them, this is not your battle.”


“Please, father. I—“


“Alice!” he boomed, stepping towards her with ferocity but a deeply set sadness in his eyes. “Be still, my child. There is much about your life that you do not know — but understand this, you are special. You may not see it now, but you must allow us to believe for you until you can believe yourself. We cannot lose you, Alice. I cannot lose you. Not like how I lost your mother.”


“You won’t lose me,” she whispered, her hand reaching out and her father grasped it lovingly, bringing it to his lips and then to his heart. “You must trust me. We will see each other again, my beautiful darling Alice, but you must go away for a while.”


Alice nodded slowly, her fight diminishing with every couple of seconds. Swiftly, he pulled her into his embrace and smoothed her hair down, his breathing ragged. “Thank you, Alice. Someday you will understand you are so much more than you believe. Be strong and I swear your heart will prevail. Do not lose yourself.”


When she finally fell back into consciousness, there was a deep pain in her ribs as the horse slowed to a near halt. Whether or not they were at their intended destination was anyone’s guess but she could not bring herself to care much. Instead she focused on her body, the dryness of her mouth and the constriction of the rag around her mouth, the pain in her ribs and shoulders, the delicate skin on her wrists marred by the rope that bound them to her ankles. She groaned softly, a shaky exhale leaving her nostrils as she lulled her head back against the side of the horse. There was no scream within her, no fight in her bones, and she was tired. There was no way to tell how long they had been riding, but by the bruising on her ribs she assumed it was quite a while — a few hours if not nearly half a day. If he was taking her to Gaedith, they would be close by now. The trip between the kingdoms a few days at most by caravan, let alone on a steed as fast as this one.


The constant bounce of the gallop made her wince and suddenly she wished she was still asleep to dull some of the pain.

 

[Atherium]

It was by the time of the noon when Alice woked up, tied to the monstruous horse that galloped on the same path through the thick woods. The abducter was still silent and only the fact that he maneouvred the reigns of his steed signified he was still wide awake. With a soft tug at said reigns, the man pulled the horse from its gallop, the animal immediately obeying and slowing down, coming to a steadily paced trot. It would seem that the strange man deemed the place safe enough to do such, considering he had a girl tied to his horse. Any passer by could notice this couple was not the usual travelling one, and that the man was the causer of harm. But he knew all too well nobody walked or rode on these paths any longer. Not after what was constantly spoken of them among the common folk.


The trotting horse, led by the reigns, eventually came to a turn, away from the main path, and entered a smaller road, that seemed to become more and more clogged with thicket and bushes. Skeletal arms of the vegetation caught the princess' clothes several times, threatening to rip them off and leave her bare before her kidnapper. Luck made it so that she would not be humiliated even more than she already was. A princess, heiress to the throne of one of two big kingdoms, at the full control of an apparently simple man, but vile one. The horse suddenly came to a halt as the small road ended, apparently, into a small cave, a hole carved by nature into a huge stone. The cave was not big enough to fit the unusual horse through, but big enough for two grown men to sit in it. In the middle, on the stone ground, the extinguished remnants of a fire were still visible.


Unmounting and silent as ever, the man proceeded to securing his horse, tying the reigns to a nearby tree. It seemed he had a well thought plan. He knew that all the main roads will be searched with much care by the guardsmen of Gwethien when word arose of the princess' fate. He had to lay low for a little while, until the searches went down and away from the zone. Passing by the princess, he cast a gaze towards her, his green eyes shimmering lightly as he took note of her awakening. He, however, did not bother to even utter a word towards her. Instead, he proceeded to untie her binds to the horse, and, yanking her over his own shoulder yet again, he finally placed her sitting in a corner of the cave, not really caring for the cold stone that now brushed roughly against her skin.


As if at a command, the weather outside became stormy, and a thunder let the earths know that rain was coming. And indeed, it was. The water began hitting the ground, at first, slowly, then released like a torment, chilling the heatened soil. It was the beginning of a beautiful summer. Or so it was for others. The princess could no longer enjoy it, as it started out so tragical. The secretive man, however, let the princess sit in her corner and went outside, seemingly to fetch something. Minutes passed by, uncounted and unknown, the rain not seeming to wish to stop soon. It was as if the whole universe weeped for the tragedy that befell Gwethien, its people, and the princess.


The rogue finally returned, his armor struck by the rain now glistening as the drops of water fell off it. The air inside the cave was refreshed, but colder now with the constant rain. The masked man placed down an armfull of wooden logs that were, as well, touched b the rain, and the dead body of a freshly hunted rabbit. It was a mystery as to how this odd person managed to hunt a rabbit through such a rain, but he did, and it seemed he was going to cook it. That if the fire would spark to life. Again, seeming not to mind the princess at all, he proceeded to place the wet logs on the extinguished fireplace in a delicate construction and order. He then searched through yet another pocket and pulled out what looked like another vial filled with whatever strange potion.


Uncapping the recipient, he poured its content equally onto the logs. The liquid was rather viscous and it had no actual color. What he was doing was strange, indeed. Placing the vial back into the pocket, he took two small stones from another pocket. Firestones. What sane person would try to light up a fire out of wet logs? Surprise was that, as soon as he hit the two small stones, they produced a spark and, as the spark hit the wood, the fire bursted alive as if at a command. It was clear that, whatever was in the vial, it helped greatly into this matter. The man then proceeded to skinning the rabbit, skillfully wielding a small blade to remove the skin and fur of the dead animal, revealing its pink, bare flesh.

 

[Poe]

Alice’s entire body ached with the aftermath of the ride, her head still groggy as the masked man freed her binds from the horse. She did not, however, expect where they had stopped. It was a small cave into the natural stone off the beaten path and it looked like it had been used before — perhaps, in fact, by this same man. With an unrelenting harshness, the man scooped her from the horse, yank her over his shoulder and then set her down against the cave, her hands still bound and mouth gagged. The stone was ice cold against her flesh and she felt several waves of chills wrack through her body. The rope had already begun to bite through her delicate skin so she tried not to move much but it was difficult. All she wanted was to be away from the cold, but she could not pull too much for fear of infuriating her captor.


So long as she was alive, she realized, Gwethien had a chance.


Unfortunately, Alice had spent most of her life at the mercy of powerful men. Ever since she was a child, her entire existence had been determined by her father and by his council. They trained her, taught her how to speak properly and tutored her in languages, determined who she entertained an audience with and when. Her life had never quite been her own, though she wished entirely to be able to stand and take charge — it would never be. All her life her father’s advisors had reminded her how weak she was. A premature birth not only taking her mother’s life, but nearly took her own as well. She had spent her early years fighting against sickness and complications until, it seemed, she had grown out of the issues. Yes, she was petite and her composition weak, but she had grown into a respectable, beautiful and loving woman. If only, she dreamed, that was enough — but it wasn’t.


The storm startled her, making her jump slightly at the first crack of thunder. The day was beautiful, warm, as the beginning of summer should be but the rain began to torrent so violently that it was hard to remember such beautiful weather even existed. As if the sky was weeping, Alice watched as the rain doused the grass in its chilled onslaught, the temperature drop doing nothing for her chills except amplifying them. She made every effort not to look at the man who had taken her, unwilling to show any weakness in her eyes. She did not need his pity, nor did she want it. All she wanted was to be safe and home, but neither was an option. With that, he stepped outside and did not return.


He was…interesting. The only thing she noticed, or that he allowed her to notice, was his brilliant green eyes. The rest of his face was obscured by a mask and Alice wondered who he was — what kind of man was he? To take on the task of kidnapping a princess, a crime punishable by immediate death, was definitely not a task for the faint of heart. Then again, if he was working for the kingdom of Gaedith, she had to wonder where his loyalties resided. Judging by his silence, she came to the conclusion that his loyalty had to lie within himself. This was not a royal assassin nor thief, he took to much pride in his craft and she could not entirely fault him for that. After all, she had never been good at much — how could she judge a man whose skills centered around theft?


She was surprised to see him return and this time she did not hesitate to look up at him. She’d done well to stay silence and unmoved throughout the duration of their time together, but she could not help a glance. He’d brought back an armful of logs in one and a dead rabbit in the other. Alice had never been one for hunting (albeit she’d never had the chance) but she was impressed with his skill. She watched attentively as he pulled nothing vial and stones from his pocket, igniting a fire from the previously damp wood and Alice cocked her head a bit to the side. This man was a master of potions as well? Her thoughts reeled back to the moment he pressed the vial to her lips to put her to sleep and how quickly that liquid had done its job.


When the fire burst forth, Alice sighed a bit. The warmth on her face was enough to dull the uncomfortably cold touch of the cave on her bare skin. All she wanted, truly, was to make it to their destination so she could be unbound. She had not fought against him nor spoken out of turn, and to be honest she had no plans to. She knew better than to try to appeal to the kidnapper, it was only the one who ordered the kidnapping that would listen to her plight. This man had orders and no scrawny princess would ever be able to come between a man and his job. That much was obvious.


Lulling her head back against the cave, she closed her eyes for a moment to try and clear the cobwebs from her mind.

 

[Atherium]

Just as silent as he has been through the whole time, the man placed the rabbit skin aside and proceeded to cutting pieces of the flesh of the animal, which he then carefully impaled on a previously chiseled stick. The fire burnt lively as he operated, and, once the stick was occupied almost fully, he began roasting the meat. He yet seemed to genuinely ignore the princess who has been sitting there for quite a while now. His mind was dead set on the plan that he had for proceeding further. The smell of freshly roasted meat filled the small cave as the sound of the meat roasting was louder than the sound of the ongoing rain outside. On a clean rag there were laid out pieces of meat for a second roast. One would think this man ate too much for his stature.


The first share of roast was done. The strange man moved from his spot and, leaning towards the princess, he extended his arm. Big was her surprise when his hand gripped the rag she had her mouth covered with, and pulled it down a little less roughly than how he has acted towards her so far. The next surprise came ever so unexpected. The man seemed to be embracing her, for a moment, as he took his hands behind her back while his chest covered her front. With an easy movement, however, he undid the knot he has tied her wrists with, thus setting her hands free. He knew she had no chance of escape, whatsoever, her feet were still tied together. Sitting back on his place, he then took the stick with roasted meat on it and placed it close to her.


"Eat." He demanded of her as he surprisingly uttered his first word, having seemed mute up until now. The reason for which he did this was unknown, probably even to him. Without taking the time to watch if she actually began eating, he now proceeded on to creating a second stick and soon after, impaling the rest of the meat on it and placing it to roast. The rain outside was slowly coming to a stop and as the clouds were vanishing, the rays of sun now made their way onto the earth, creating a beautiful scenery. The slight remains of rain were pouring as the rain was still falling, and it all was more than beautiful. Of course, for the princess, it might all seem the same in the situation she was in now.


However, the mysterious man seemed to be caught in a trance, his bright green eyes casting their gaze outside. He was strange, to say the least. His meat was now roasted, and as he needed to eat as well, he had to uncover his face. His hand caught the special mask that covered his lower face and gently tugged it down, revealing his features. A strong chin and proeminent cheekbones, assorted with rough skin. A well defined jaw line and an old scar tainting his left cheek, a scar that looked like an old, healed knife cut. Casting no further attention to the princess, he proceeded to silently eating, ripping the meat off the stick with his teeth and enjoying it in the same silence that he has got the princess probably already used to.

 

[Poe]

Alice had not expected the movement when he reached over to her, involuntarily flinching as he came too close too fast, but his hand merely gripped the rag over the mouth and pulled it down rather gently. She took a deep breath of air and reveled in the way it eased the strain on her lungs. Then, pulling her forward a bit in a strange embrace, his hands worked at the bindings keeping hers immobile. The ropes fell away quickly and a pressure alleviated form her wrists, a contented sigh leaving her lips as she brought them forward and rubbed her wrists gently. The skin was red and irritated, rubbed raw in a few places but it was not entirely unbearable. He reached out and handed her a piece of roasted meat, which she picked up graciously and took a small bite of — the taste of food welcomed to her grumbling stomach.


“Thank you,” she said softly, not expecting a response but not willing to leave his kindness unappreciated. Yes, it was humane to feed a captive, but he didn’t have to untie her, he didn’t have to give her such a generous piece of meat, he didn't have to do a lot of things — but he did. The only thing he didn’t seem to do was talk. Watching him roast another helping of rabbit presumably for himself, she watched attentively as he peeled down the mask covering his face. She was surprised to see the man that resided underneath the darkness. He was a roguish type of handsome, his eyes striking only offset by his strong skin and prominent features. There was a scar on his left cheek that gave him a rough and ragged appearance — though she was not surprised such a man would have scars.


He did not look to her, instead he looked outside and she glanced after him. The sun had begun to peek through the rain, reflecting off the wet leaves, giving the forest an ethereal glow. It was breathtaking, a welcomed sight for sore eyes. After all, she had just watched a group of men be slaughtered — anything not covered in blood and gasping for life was an attractive sight to her right now. She looked back up to the captor and felt words sting on the tip of her tongue but she could not bring herself to speak them. Would this man care for her small talk? Absolutely not. She was at his mercy and she feared that anything out of line would result in her being rebound and thrown back on that horse — and the last thing she wanted was to feel the sharp and shooting pain of the gallops on her ribcage. All in all, she was okay with the silence but there was so much she wanted to know.


Placing the stick down, she finished her meal and took the opportunity with her free hands to rub some warmth into her arms and to move a bit from the wall to keep the cold away from her sensitive skin. Her feet were still tied and though her hands were free, she made no move to untie them. She could not outrun him nor was she cunning enough to sneak from him or smart enough to live in the wild for a short time. A soft sneeze wracked through her body, dainty as she was, and put her hands a bit closer to the fire hoping to absorb a bit more of the heat. She was not ill yet, but had always been quick to contract such illnesses. As a girl, she’d been caught in a rainstorm and held a fever for near four days. She cursed herself for being so weak, but she could not change the composition of her body — though she wished entirely that she could.


“How far are we from Gaedith?” she asked, her voice soft over the crackling of the fire. She did not truly expect an answer or the verification that they were, indeed, heading to Gaedith — but she knew she had to try. If there was an end in sight, she could power through the next few hours or days or even weeks.

 

[Atherium]

"Far enough to make us both happy when we part ways." He replied shortly as he chewed his meat, going against the term of politeness which encouraged anyone not to speak with a mouth full. He continued on eating without even bothering himself to gaze at her, yet. All that he sincerely wanted was to get himself rid of her as quickly as possible, for she was a burden that he accepted to carry for only the sake of gold. That was the kind of person he was. The job would be done if gold was on the table. And for the reward he's been promised, he was ready to do anything. Finishing off his meal, he placed the stick aside and took out a small bottle that contained a liquid. A drink.


Uncapping the recipient, he took a good few chugs from it, and the way he groaned after drinking clearly suggested it was not just water. Alcohol. Of course, he was not intending on getting drunk, but he enjoyed his meal so far, so why not enjoy it further? The effect of the alcohol was, as presumable, to lighten his mood and untie his tongue a little bit. "So..." He spoke after a few more minutes of silence, time which he has used to think further upon the situation at hand and the fact that soon enough, it will be all over. "I've never had a meal with a princess. Guess this is not as hard as some make it seem."


The man proceeded to cap the bottle back and put it in its place on his person, before pulling the mask on his lower face yet again. He felt as though he has already spoken way too much to the girl and it would lead to no good. The rain finally stopped, and it seemed to be about mid-day, as of now. The secret road they were to take to reach Gaedith was going to lead out of the woods and into a more unfriendly environment. He pondered, however, on the thought of whether to let the princess ride the horse normally, or carry her around tied. The logic would be to keep her tied and prevent any unhappy turn of events, such as her trying to escape. But on the other hand, should he meet any traveller on the road, the latter would immediately figure that something was not alright with the two. At all.


In the same silence, he eventually decided that it would be better to fully untie her, with no further explanation given. His hands again worked on the knot he himself tied and in a moment, her feet were as free as her hands. He shot her a warning glance, however, while he proceeded to extinguish the fire, deciding it was time to leave. They had a long road ahead and the king of Gaedith was not exactly famous for being patient. With the fire extinguished, he placed a hand on her arm and tugging it almost as rough as in every movement he has done with her so far, he pulled her along with him outside. As a preventive measure, he helped her mount the horse, the animal reacting eerily at first feeling a new presence. He then untied the horse from the tree, mounted behind her, and placing his arms around her sides he tugged the reins, the horse following his movement and turning around, before he pulled it into a steady pace, soon exitting out on the main road and speeding up on it.

 

[Poe]

“Right, of course,” Alice replied, her hand coming up to brush some of the fallen tendrils of hair out of her face. The man was unrefined and brutish, but she had no reason to think him anything else. Watching him take a few bugs of a liquid, she assumed he had begun drinking alcohol and she let her gaze wander back to the fire. “Depends on the princess, really,” Alice replied to his statement without thought, her eyes still locked on the fire. “I know some who would have your head for chewing with your mouth open. Seems to me like a meal is a meal and you’re free to enjoy it however you choose.”


She did not know what came over her, speaking so cordially to the man who had kidnapped her but she knew she could not take it back so she stood her ground and did not move. They had no reason to converse as she was a job and he was a thief. They would part ways in Gaedith, like he said, and that would be it. Two ships passing in the night. Without a word, he unbound her feet and yanked her towards the horse. She was surprised to learn that he expected her to ride without a fight, though she appreciated any chance to not feel the strain of the horse on her ribcage. “You don’t have to yank me, you know,” she spoke up, finding her spine finally as he helped her mount the horse. “I may be here against my will but I am not so stupid to think I would survive in these woods should I run from you. I appreciate you not tying me to the horse, and I have no plans to attempt to escape.”


He mounted behind her, arms around her side and starting out onto the main road. Her hands gripped the horse’s mane but gently as not to hurt him. He was a magnificent horse, beautiful and dark as pitch. She found herself, now that she was not tied to him, admiring the stallion as he sped up down the main road. The feeling of the man behind her was strange. She had no reason to feel anything but disdain for him, but there was a safety in feeling his warmth behind her as the cool air from the rainfall whipped against their skin. She found herself at times, thankful for his arms around her as the path was not always smooth and she had never spent much time on horses as a child. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that she wasn’t being led to Gaedith and instead on a ride with a lovely stranger.


But when she glanced back, his unrelenting green eyes always made her unsure. What did they want with her in Gaedith? She was of no use to them if her own kingdom fell, and if they truly wanted to snuff out all possibilities of an uprising, they would do well to kill the entire royal family. Why would they need Alice then? What was so special about her that they would send this man across the kingdom to kidnap her? So many questions and so few answers since the man sitting behind her was a near mute and cared nothing for her curiosity.

 

[Atherium]

The gallop was fast and steady, and the man was doing an amazing job keeping his horse steady. The steed was, as it seemed, more than just any horse that one could find to buy at the horse merchants. It seemed the strange animal was forming a connection with its master, and thus, the two became one during the ride. It was also way faster than the normal breeds, and, as the man tugged at the reins ever so gently, the horse responded with a loud neigh before darting off into a sprint, its hooves hitting the ground heavily as it advanced further and further down the path. The man remained silent, eventually looking down to meet the gaze of the princess as she looked back at him.


The magic looking forest seemed to slowly become scarcer, the green grass being more oftenly replaced by empty soil. Trees were also becoming a rare sight, and instead, were being replaced by stones and ground deformities. The sun was now burning bright, and nothing was above to cover the pair that travelled. The horse had slowed down from its insanely fast gallop, embracing yet again a normal running pace. It all looked like they have transcended into a totally different territory. The place, as most knew, was called the Burnt Scar. Story had it that long ago, the place was full of blooming wildlife and beauty, that until a huge fire razed and burnt everything to the ground.


From a spot to another, black tree stumps were visible, and the story seemed credible enough for those who witnessed the emptiness of such place. The air itself was hot and harder to breathe, and the princess could notice it right away by the dry spot that was slowly forming in her throat. The man seemed not to mind it, and continued leading the horse through, passing right across the field that looked endless. What a sad thing to look at. The ground was just as dry as the air, and it bore cracks in the crust formed at its surface. What the usual traveller knew of, however, was that this place was not completely empty. Bandits and outlaws used to roam it, as it was so vaste and mostly nobody dared enter it without a good reason.


Even if the silent man was an outlaw himself, he wasn't too fond of the other types of outlaws encountered in his way. He was, as he knew, a professional, while they were just small time pickpockets and murderers. In fact, he simply despised them and not only once has he killed off thieves like them who were stupid enough to try and mess around with him. And he would be ready to do it again, should they appear.


"We're passing through the Burnt Scar now." He broke the silence, feeling the need to tell the princess where the were headed. "If we encounter bandits, just stay put. And keep silent."

 

[Poe]

They rode in silence for most of the journey and rightly so as Alice tried to keep herself steady on the horse. There was clearly a brilliant connection between the rider and his horse, but Alice was not an experienced rider in any sense and knew nothing of how to alleviate the pain of riding on her small frame. Luckily, her thoughts were pulled elsewhere as they made their way out of the forest into a desolate place, the soil almost a burnt sienna in color as they slowed down. This place was heartbreaking, the scarred and broken trees cracked and split against the soil, sun-bleached stones and bright sun burnt the ground they rode on. Some of the plants were scorched , as though they were freshly burnt. Alice had never seen this place before and didn’t care much for it.


It was hard to breathe and her hand came up to cover her mouth as she let out a few soft coughs. The warm air was oppressive, irritating her throat consistently, and the sun was hot against her back so she slick a little further back into the shadow of the man behind her. The vastness of the place was overwhelming and Alice immediately wished to turn around — for some reason her heart told her she would rather be tied to the horse riding through the forest than free in this desolate place. Though she understood the man could not afford to get caught, she wondered why they had to take this particular route to Gaedith. But then again, she wasn’t in charge of directions nor the horse so who was she to question his motives? Perhaps this was the fastest route.


“Bandits?” she looked up at him, thankful for his towering stature that blocked out the sun. “It sounds as though they’re not particularly fond of them — which is strange, coming from an outlaw.”


“I’ll remain quiet, I promise,” she smiled softly, unsure why as she turned back to face the road. “I don’t have a death wish, contrary to popular belief, and I’d quite like to get out of this desolate place.” She cleared her throat again, a few more coughs wracking through her body. The sooner they were out of here, the better. They rode in silence for quite a bit longer, the warmth of the day making Alice a bit tired as more of her weight rested on the man behind her, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment or two. Or at least, that’s what she thought, but the next moment she was jostled awake by quite a bit of noise. The man behind her stiffening as though he were ready for anything.


With her eyes now fluttering open, she could see what had so rudely awakened her. A group of bandits had made their descent upon them, blades in hand, one with a bow and arrow and the other with what seemed like two daggers. “That’s a rather pretty lady you’ve got there,” one of them, partially masked said as he stepped forward. “Why don’t you hand her over, let us have a taste of that, and you can be on your merry way.”


Alice, despite her desire to protest, did as she had been told and did not move, nor speak. Instead she stayed safely within the masked man’s hold on the reigns until he decided what the best course of action was. It did not, however, stop her from flinching when the men made a mad dash for the horse, weapons drawn and eyes hungry like wolves. She just had to put her faith in this man, if not to protect her, to protect himself and the job. That’s all she could do — hope.

 

[Atherium]

He knew what has been coming before it even came. He sensed it in the air. His senses have always been sharper than most, and sometimes, one could mistake him for a clairvoyant, as he sometime just did things before they were meant to be done, as if he had already seen what was going to happen, and that the move was to be needed soon enough. Three bandits, coming from the middle of nowhere. They had probably camped behind a ground dune or wherever else close. In all honesty, the man totally despised these beings, having nothing more than hatred towards them. Small time pick pockets with less to no delicacy, skill or precision. They didn't have the slightest notion of how to sneak up on unknowing travellers, they only acted like a bunch of blood barbarians. So lame.


Moreover, he found their overconfidence almost funny, and he was not an easily amused individual. He only gazed upon them briefly, the mere sight of these small time thieves making him want to, well, vomit. Was he alone on his horse, he would have even went as far as to simply dismiss them and pass through, knowing they had nothing on him. But he had the princess, and she was a precious load whom he couldn't afford losing, or causing harm to. He had to confront these pathetic knife wielders. Giving the princess a reassuring squeeze with his arms, he proceeded to unmount, in silence, only gazing upon the three men and not uttering one word. The bowyer seemed more than irritated by how silent the man was, and stepped forth, stomping his foot against the ground in a threatening manner.


"Are you bloody deaf, peasant? Hand over the girl and maybe i'll consider not making you a voodoo doll for arrows." Despite his words ringing crystal clear, the stranger assasin seemed clearly unimpressed, as the course of action he has taken was to fix a simple stance, calm, quite, while running his gaze over all three men, from right to the left, and from the left to the right. The bandits were getting ever so more agitated, and a low grunt could be heard evading one's throat as he tightened his grip on his two daggers, colored green by what seemed to be a poison applied to the blade. The voice of the silent man ripped through the air as he finally came to speak in his usual calm pattern, thus infuriating the trio even more.


"Three seconds. It's all i give you to turn around and leave with your lives. In three seconds, your friend will be gargling on his own blood, and you'll be there to witness. Take the chance."


He sounded dead serious, and for whoever knew him, it would be clear by now that the three numbskulls were dead in the moment they decided to cross his path. However, they didn't seem to be taking him serious, as only a sinister laughter errupted from them in unison, in a chorus of mockery. But the seconds were running out, as the man was silently counting. The fingers from one of his gloved hands stood perked, three. One of them flexed as the second passed, and there remained two. The men were still too busy laughing and mocking the solitary man to observe how the last second has passed by. A loud gasp and a gargle was heard, and in the speed of events, it all came off in a rush, too fast for the normal eye to perceive. The bandit that wielded what looked like a bastard sword immediately dropped his weapon and took his hands to his own throat. Through the spaces between his fingers, the handle of a small throwing knife was seen, stained with the fresh blood that was now errupting from the man's wound.


In nothing but a split second, the assasin had unsheathed and thrown a small dagger at the man, and hit him directly into the throat. That was what has happened, and the two others were now surprised by the turn of events. Their fellow remained standing for another second, before his body collapsed to the ground, remaining still in an ever growing pool of blood.


"The time is passing, boys. I'll be merciful and give you each three seconds. Use them wisely."


"Oh, you can go straight into hell!" The dagger wielder spat out as he charged a desperate attack, shoving both his arms forth in an attempt to stick the small blades into the man's chest. But the latter skillfully dodged the attack, while with the same agility, drawing his own daggers. The bowyer, seeing as the two were now busy fighting each another, thought of it as the perfect chance to snatch the princess all for himself. After all, his friend was dead, for sure. He pondered upon the thought while casting worrisome gazed at the fighting scene, and seeing how his companion was all but being mocked into killing himself. His steps guided him closer to the horse, and his lips drew into a grin under the rag he worse as a mask. His eyes sparked at the sight of the young girl and at the thought of how much fun she should be.


A blood drowned gargle was heard from behind, and before the man could step further, an arrow was planted right at the base of his foot, making him retreat it in desperation. As expected, his companion was on the ground, twitching in the throes of death. His lustful gaze turned soon into horrified, as he realized what trouble he has dragged himself into. As he attempted to draw his bow with trembling hands, he dropped it on the ground, while the stranger figure took a step forth, and spoke yet again with the sinister voice of an ominous death. "Three seconds. It's all you have."


The bandit managed to find power into his own, mad desperation, and turning on his heels, he dashed in a sprint, trying to run away from his own death as fast as he could. The assasin took his stance, with a cold blooded calm, aimed his bow, then slowly drew back the arrow. The projectile then soon split through the air, and its tip planted itself at high speed in the man's nape, granting him a swift departure, due to his cervical spine being detached, one vertebrae from the other. His body all but stumbled forth, in a crazy inertia, and fell against the ground, flat and lifeless.

 

[Poe]

It had all happened so quickly that Alice hadn’t been able to really keep up. One moment there were bandits and the next her captor had dismounted from his horse and slaughtered all of the visible bandits in the immediate area. He had been so fast about it, pulling daggers and slitting their throats, piercing and disgusting sounds that made her stomach lurch. She imagined that this was what the slaughter of her father’s men looked like from the outside and it made her uneasy, even more fearful of him than she had been before. She did not, however, miss the reassuring squeeze he had given her before heading off to deal with the bandits. It was, from what she knew, entirely out of character for him and she could not help but wonder why. For whatever reason, he had shown her some compassion and she was not about to question it out loud. He could do as he pleased and she would sit here obediently and let him protect her. Protect the job — that’s what assassins and kidnappers like him lived by, wasn’t it?


When she thought he had killed all of the men, she heard the swoosh of an arrow whizzing by her head and instead scathing the horse, barely enough to leave a real wound, but close enough that without the familiar weight of his rider and only the princess to carry — he bucked back, sending the girl hurdling towards the ground, landing painfully on her side. Alice cried out softly at the impact, the ground far harder than she had anticipated. Where the arrow had come from, she did not know — but she could only assume that there were more bandits. The sound of heavy footsteps carried and when Alice looked up from the ground, unable to push herself up quite yet, she was met with the sight of an entire band of thieves — at least ten more had shown up and she felt a rough hand in her hair before pulling her back off the ground with a yelp.


“You’re pretty talented, but let’s see how good you are when we’ve got her,” the man who she presumed to be the leader, holding her by the hair. His other hand came up, clutched around a dagger but let his fingers loose for a second to drag his fingers over her skin. “Oh, she’s a pretty one. Don’t know why you’d ever let a girl like this out. Someone might do something rather…unfortunate to get their hands on this brand of woman.”


One of the other men came up and gave her the once over, his hand coming up the grasp at her, yanking at the fabric of her dress, leaving small tears in the skirt of her dress as he trailed his hand up her leg and she instinctively kicked him away, causing the man behind her to yank her back even more painfully. “Got a bit of fight in her too, wouldn’t ‘ave guessed that.” Alice squeezed her eyes shut at the pain radiating through her body. His hand was yanking at her hair, knife at her throat, but the worst was the ache over her entire body from falling of the horse pained her the most. Her legs hardly holding her own weight, giving the man more power than she intended.


“Let go of me,” she managed to bite out, knowing that the more distracted the men were, the easier it would be for her companion to take them out. While she had the leader’s rough hands all over her, the rest of the band had rushed her kidnapper, knives, bows, and even swords drawn to slaughter the man who refused to give up the beautiful woman without a fight. “I like the fire in you, I wonder if you have that same passion in everything you do,” he licked his lips, eyes hungry and she shut her eyes.


What would happen next, she didn’t want to see. She could hear the sinking of daggers and arrows all around her and though she hadn’t registered his attack on the leader, Alice felt the hand in her hair loosen and she collapse to the ground with a bit of a sob, not wanting to push herself up for the soreness that radiated through her body.

 

[Atherium]

The masked man snarled slightly as he saw how his prey was being snatched, and despite the fact that he trusted in his own skill enough to plunge into fighting all these scoundrels, he still did not. He simply remained in his spot, running a careful gaze over each and one of them. They weren't so many that he could not handle on his own, but still enough to give him a run for his prize. He still held the bow in his hand, and, while the bandit ringleader planned on what to do with the princess in the next time, the man was scanning him, trying to find a weak spot. A master in marksmanship, he knew much more than just shoot an arrow. And this led to the next course of action, that took by surprise the entire bandit breath.


His hand reached into the quiver in a matter of seconds. Two swordsmen have already taken a step forth in an attempt to stop him. The movement was so quick that the bandit leader did not, however, get time to react. With a hiss, three arrows pierced through the air, all at the same time, one planting its tip into the leader's forehead, and the other two, into the two bandits in his immediate proximity. The criminal gasped, his knees became shaky and his body finally gave in, his hand loosening its grip on the princess' hair as his body collapsed behind her. However, the two other bandits that attacked the man remained uncared for, and so, he was now faced with two swords that were being swinged oh so dangerously close to his face. With a skilled move, he eluded the attacks and spun away in a silent pirouette, setting his bow back against his back and drawing his two short swords.


He then proceeded to appy his skill in blade dancing, immediately retaliating for the attack the two launched upon him. Swords clashed as he swished through them like a gentle wind, spinning and dodging the blades further, as well as parrying some of them. He had a strange grace about him as he spun and twisted, making the two try their best to reach and slash him, He knew, as good as probably the princess also did, that he was playing way too much, but it was in his style. He enjoyed his fighting. The two bandits were slowly being drained of energy as they waved their swords and cut through thin air in attempts to reach the man who eluded them with seemingly no effort. With a spin to the right, he finally came to a halt and faced them. Both men glared angrily towards him, and one spat on the ground as he drew a heavy breath. The assasin simply twirled the swords in his hands and awaited another wave of attacks.


And there they went, charging simultaneously at him with the same rage, making it even easier for him to play them off. The first to reach him swung the blade and tried landing it upon the man, but has been easily deflected, the clashing of the blades ear piercing. The fight picked up momentum yet again as the two rallied even angrier against the single man, trying even harder to land a blow against him as he avoided and parried everything with a good amount of skill. Of course, for him, a trained blade dancer, these two were just mere children who just picked up blades and believed they could take on the world. But it was getting boring. He has decided it was time to end it once and for all. With two agressive slashes, he cut one of the bandits across his chest, making him wince and stumble in pain. He grinned as he freed up on of his hands by throwing one of the swords on the ground and, grabbing his injured opponent, he all but shoved the man in the way of the other bandit's slashing blade, thus making the latter cut up his own fellow.


With a pleased smirk, he watched as one of the bandits collapsed and, not giving it a second thought, he quickly shot a throwing knife at the second, planting it in his chest, in the heart zone. The man only gasped and tried to grab at the small knife before collapsing over the corpse of his partner in crime, enduring a slow and agonizing death. And there it was, over, at last, another field of corpses. Sheathing back his own swords, the stranger approached the princess and gazed upon her to see if she had been hurt in any way.


"Are you alright?" He muttered, scanning her body.

 

[Poe]

Alice had missed the entire display, willing herself not to look up because she couldn't have more blood plaguing her dreams, but the sound of the onslaught broke her heart. The stranger had managed to slaughter them all, including the leader holding her at knife point, and the overwhelming fear and relief she felt was enough to keep her on the ground. She did not want to move, speak, or even breathe. The only thing she wanted was to wake up from the nightmare that her life had become, but she knew it was impossible. Tears were in her eyes as she laid on the ground, one hand propping her up while another touched at her throat where the slightest bit of blood prickled through the shallow wound from the touch of the blade. Her entire body ached, her right wrist was throbbing from trying to catch herself after falling off the horse. All in all, there were no visible markings on her save for the shallow wound on her throat, but the bruising was deep under her skin and ached with every movement.


Alice shook her head yes to his question, not realizing that when the words settled in her heart she would let a sob ripple through her body. Her hand that had touched the wound came up and the back of her hand covered her mouth, trying to hold how overwhelmed she was back but it was not easy. Her entire body was shaking, almost as if she was falling into a panic attack as she tried to keep herself calm. Little things — like being alive — she repeated over and over in her head but she couldn’t bring herself to feel the relief of the words. That man and his band of thieves had run their hands up her, knife to her throat and fist pulling handfuls of hair. She’d been knocked from a horse, taking from her home, and seen more blood in the last day than she ever had in her entire life.


It was too much. Alice curled in on herself a bit, shirking away from her captor’s touch not in any movement that could have been misconstrued as trying to run, but as a frightened and hurt woman in pain. At that point, she didn't even want to go home, she just wanted to be left here. For a moment, even, she felt bad for her captor who had to deal with such an emotional mess. Here he was — having been kind to her and untying her so that she could ride with him instead of being subjected to that awful tied position on the horse. He’d even squeezed her in reassurance before he'd engaged the bandits and here she was, shaking and holding back sobs as her skin crawled and a slight bit of blood still trickled from the wound on her neck.


Without thinking, she dropped her head into his embrace and kept herself there. All she could register was that in this war she had managed to find herself in the middle of, the only one who was protecting her was this man. Anyone else would have let her die or given her to the desires of those men, but he didn’t. Maybe she was just a job, but in the end he would protect her because she was just that and so long as she stayed with him, she would survive.